


the physiology of the human body (is a complicated thing)

by moonatoms



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, And angst, Don't worry, F/M, Fluff, Quite a bit of angst, also known as The Doctors AU Nobody Asked For, idek what this is but I'm having fun with it so, the Angst isn't here to stay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23399056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonatoms/pseuds/moonatoms
Summary: Chloe Decker, MD is not exactly the kind of person to get riled up easily. She is, after all, an intensive care doctor in Los Angeles which means, she’s seen a lot. She is also not entirely unfamiliar with moronic doctors who think they are God’s gift to humanity and misogyny is - not surprisingly - especially widespread among surgeons (it is still very much a men’s club after all) but despite all of this, she is pretty certain that Doctor Lucifer Morningstar is the worst of them all.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 116
Kudos: 227





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything
> 
> Hi guys! Long time no see. I kind of fell of the face of the earth for a bit thanks to real-life and a lot of other uninteresting things. Anyway, this is a bit different from what I usually write, both in writing style but mostly because it's actually a multi-chapter fic that started out as a one shot on tumblr more than two years ago kind of grew from there. It's not done yet but I decided to start cross-posting it here anyway. Enjoy!

Chloe Decker, MD is not exactly the kind of person to get riled up easily. She is, after all, an intensive care doctor in Los Angeles which means, she’s seen _a lot_ . She is also not entirely unfamiliar with moronic doctors who think they are God’s gift to humanity and misogyny is - not surprisingly - especially widespread among surgeons (it is still very much a men’s club after all) but despite all of this, she is pretty certain that Doctor Lucifer Morningstar is _the worst of them all_.

He is tall, British and was an immediate hit with all the nurses and doctors - female and male - as soon as he set foot in the hospital. And he is probably the most arrogant and insufferable person she has ever met in her life. He actually had the audacity to be shocked when she did not immediately fall at his feet the first time they met? Like that was just something so entirely outside the realm of possibility?

Unfortunately, that was not the last time they interacted. He’s the new cardio attending - because of course he is - which means that she has to work with him a lot more than she would like (her preference being zero). And, more than that, he seems to actively seek out their meetings. He is in the ICU a lot more than any other surgeon under the guise of checking up on his patients and he seems to enjoy riling her up. A lot.

So it’s not surprising that, when she walks into one of the rooms at the end of a terrible 24-hour shift, she finds him meddling with the sedation of one of his patients. _Her_ sedation.

“Excuse me?” she asks, trying very hard to keep her voice calm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He looks up from what he is doing at that, but of course does not stop fiddling with the infusion pump.

“Oh I was just optimizing some things,” he says jovially, not sounding the least bit ashamed at having been caught and she has to grit her teeth and clench her fist before she can use her hands for something like strangling him.

“Dr. Morningstar -“

He interrupts her immediately, a small smirk on his lips

“Darling, I’ve told you before, there’s really no need to be formal, please call me Lucifer.”

Or maybe she could stab him. There are enough sharp objects in this hospital.

Instead, she takes another deep breath. Tries to think of happy things like the fact that she is off the clock in ten minutes and can go home to her daughter and a Morningstar-free apartment. The jail time for stabbing him would really, _really_ not be worth it.

“Dr. Morningstar,” she repeats instead. “I would prefer if you did your own job instead of mine. I can assure you I am quite good at this.”

She’s proud of herself for keeping her voice levelled, though she is also sure it does sound a _little_ strained at the edges.

His smirk doesn’t drop at her words.

“Oh I know, dear,” he replies. “You are very good at what you do. But this is a very high-profile client. I was merely making sure everything is in order.”

She shoots him a dirty look at that but he just grins back at her in that way that has everyone else pretty much fling themselves into his arms.

Well she is not about to do that. But she is also tired and she really just wants to go home and sleep for like a year (or just 8 hours).

“So you are an intensive care doctor now, too?” she asks sarcastically. 

“Oh no, I like to be much more hands on than that. But I have picked up a few things here and there. Plus the patient looked like they were in pain. Their blood pressure and heart rate went up and I figured you’d prefer if they weren’t. Makes for a better recovery and all that.”

He is right, of course, but he should have informed her instead of just fiddling with things himself. Contrary to what he thinks, even Lucifer Morningstar is not all-knowing and…she is too tired to get into this argument with him right now. The worst thing is he probably did it right. He is a cocky bastard but it’s unfortunately not entirely without reason. She is obviously not going to tell him that though. She’d never hear the end of it.

“Don’t you have hearts to fix?,” she says instead, fully aware of just how lame thar sounds. His grin widens at her words.

They both know he’s won this round.

“One day, you too will come around, Doctor,” he says simply, turning away from the patient.

“When Hell freezes over,” she merely retorts.

He merely cocks an eyebrow at that.

“I’m sure I could arrange that.”

* * *

It’s another one of those days that just won’t end. It should be enough that two of her patients coded today and that one of them did not make it. It should be enough that another patient threw up on her, instead of managing to hit the bin the nurse was helpfully holding right in front of him. It should be enough that there is a fifteen year old kid fighting for his life in her ICU right now because he decided to ride his bike to school. But of course it’s not. Instead, this day just keeps getting worse and worse and worse and it’s 9pm now and she can’t remember the last time she ate. It was probably not today.

It’s at this moment that a chocolate bar lands on the desk she’s currently resting her head on because she really, really just needs five minutes. And not just any chocolate bar, no, it’s a Kinder chocolate bar.

It’s enough to pull her from her thoughts and she straightens up immediately, half-expecting her superior to be there, ready to chew her out for not working for the 15th straight hour without so much as a coffee break. Astonishingly enough, she finds herself looking into the eyes of one Dr. Lucifer Morningstar, cardiothoracic surgeon extraordinaire and the man who has been getting on her every last nerve for the past three months instead. And because this day is apparently not done surprising her yet, he’s actually not wearing a smug smile for once, or making a jab at her for sleeping on the job. Instead he actually looks…concerned?

She can’t stop her eyebrows from rising slightly at the expression on his face as she slowly plucks the chocolate bar from her desk.

“Dr. Morningstar,” she greets him quietly, eyes still focused intently on his, looking for any sign that this is a prank (because let’s be honest, it’s not entirely far-fetched).

“Dr. Decker,” he replies with a nod, sounding very serious and absolutely unlike himself. “You looked like you could need it.”

There’s a small smile playing along the corner of his mouth now and she can’t help the mirroring one that appears ever so slowly on her own face and she knows it’s not a prank because even he is not that…well, asshole-y.

“Ummm…thank you,” she says, for lack of a better option. If she’s honest, she’s too stunned to come up with something better because Lucifer Morningstar is smiling at her and not being a dick and he brought her chocolate and not just that but her -

“It’s your favourite, isn’t it?” he enquires, voice more quiet and questioning than she has ever heard before.

She nods ever so slowly.

“It is,” she confirms, drawing out the words. “How did you…?”

His smile widens a bit, into something real that makes his face look surprisingly soft and she is pretty sure she’s entered the Twilight Zone. But there is no snarky comment to follow it up or a quip about how she should eat healthier and how she’s going to clog up her arteries and get a heart attack and he’ll have to save her.

Instead he just shrugs.

“We all have our secrets,” is all he replies.

“Goodnight, Dr. Decker.”

And then he’s gone and she’s left sitting there with her favourite chocolate bar in hand and a tiny smile on her face.

Yes, this day was garbage and yes, she’s pretty sure they’re going to be back to their old selves tomorrow, bickering and fighting but she’s also somehow quite certain that she got a glimpse of the _real_ Lucifer tonight, the one that’s hidden beneath the arrogance and haughtiness and the stupid good looks.

And, well, he doesn’t seem so bad.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Dude, he was totally flirting with you just now,” Ella says around a mouthful of pasta as they both stare at Lucifer’s retreating back as he makes his way over to the other side of the cafeteria.

Chloe just shoots her a look at that. She wouldn’t exactly call it flirting, more like…a friendly conversation. Which may come across like flirting since it’s not how their conversations usually go. Except now they do apparently. Because ever since last Friday, Lucifer Morningstar has been surprisingly mellow.

Not that he’s a changed man, of course not, but the glimpse she got last week? She’s been getting more and more of those in the last few days. Real smiles. Some actual, honest conversation that was not him being an arrogant dick. It’s, well, it’s a  _ surprise _ . And not a completely unwelcome one if she’s being totally honest.

Alas, she’s not sure about any of this. Because Lucifer is still Lucifer and completely self-focused and elusive and  _ what if this is just some elaborate ploy to butter her up _ ? It’s not like that’s completely outside the realm of possibility.

But back to the problem at hand: Ella. Who is the kind of person not to be deterred once she’s made up her mind about something. And she clearly has made up her mind about this.

Chloe sighs.

“You do know he flirts with everybody, right? Literally everybody,” she says and stabs her falafel with a little more gusto than slightly necessary which earns her a raised eyebrow from Ella.

“I don’t know,” Ella replies, twirling a spaghetti around her fork wistfully. “I don’t think he flirts with everyone like this. In fact I know he is usually a lot more suave than he was right there. He almost seemed insecure.”

Chloe can’t help the laugh that escapes her throat at her friend’s words.

“Are you sure we are talking about the same person here, Ella?” she asks incredulously, shaking her head slightly to underline her point. “Because the Lucifer Morningstar I know is definitely anything but insecure. Did I tell you about the time he messed with my sedation?”

A grin appears on Ella’s lips, her eyes sparkling as she sets down her fork and leans back in her seat.

“Yep,” she replies cheerfully. “You did. At length. In fact, you do talk about him an awful lot.”

Chloe rolls her eyes at the self-satisfied look on her friend’s face, which sadly does not seem to have the desired effect because Ella just crosses her arms, her grin widening.

“Can you believe what Lucifer did today?,” She mimics Chloe. “Oh, he’s such a jerk, he’s so arrogant, he’s so sure of himself.”

Pushing her plate away from her, Chloe just shoots Ella another look. She knows it’s true. She does talk about him a lot, even Trixie has picked up on it. But that doesn’t mean anything,  _ obviously _ , and the last thing she needs is Ella thinking there is something there. 

“So,” she defends herself. “That only proves how much I dislike him.”

Ella merely raises an eyebrow at that. Shaking her head, Chloe fiddles with her fork.

“What, I do dislike him. He’s a jerk…”

“…except when he’s not. Like when he brought you your favourite chocolate bar on Friday, hello?” Ella exclaims, before her smile turns mischievous. “Have you noticed he’s tuned down the flirting, too? Because I have. I mean, he hasn’t stopped flirting of course, but it’s definitely less than it used to be. And he was actually kind of sweet right now.”

Chloe sighs again. She really, really does not want to get into this right now. She knows Ella means well. Ever since Dan and her broke up, she hasn’t exactly been dating a lot. Or at all, really. Or done anything other than work way too many hours and spend the rest of the time with her daughter. Which makes her happy and is good and fulfilling in its own way. But there is no denying she gets lonely sometimes. And Ella knows it, even if they never talk about it. 

It’s not a crime to want something more, someone to cuddle up to on the couch after a long day at work. Someone to laugh with, cook with, someone who will hold you at night when everything that happened that day comes back to you. Someone to talk to about the weather and your fear of screwing up.  _ Someone _ . 

It’s not something she wants to talk about. Sometimes, too often, she feels bad enough for  _ wanting _ it. And this, whatever tentative friendship Lucifer and her are building? She doesn’t want anyone else to turn it into something it’s not. 

Because the truth is, she likes it but she doesn’t trust it. Not yet. It’s too brittle. One little push and it might crumble.

“I don’t know, Ella,” she replies slowly. “I don’t know what to make of any of this. Like, how do I know this is not just the easiest way he figures he can get me into bed? By being nice? I mean, he seemed to consider it a personal affront that I do not want to sleep with him.”

Picking her fork back up, she gives her friend a tight smile and then, before Ella can even think of a reply, adds: “But can we talk about something else, please? I don’t really want to think about this right now. It’s giving me a headache and I still have way too many hours to go on this shift.”

Ella looks like she wants to protest for a second, but then wisely nods.

“Okay,” she relents. “But we will be revisiting this conversation at a later point. Now, how’s Trixie liking hockey?”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since there are many, many different shift systems even within one country, I have relied on the one we used in the ICU: three eight hour shifts (instead of two twelve hour ones).  
> Also I know that it's highly unlikely any doctor would voluntarily come to the hospital in the middle of the night when they don't have to be there, but let's ignore that for a second for the purpose of this chapter, shall we.

It’s two in the morning and she’s currently working on coffee number three while pretending to be going over her patient’s meds when she suddenly feels a presence looming over her.

She looks up, blinks and blinks again because it’s two in the morning and  _ why is he even here at this godforsaken hour _ ?

For a second she worries that she may have missed something, that he had an emergency surgery and she is going to have a patient here in a minute that she is not prepared for at all but then she realizes that he looks way too relaxed for that.

Tired, sure, as anyone would be at this time of the night, but not like he just got out of a multiple hour surgery.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she blurts out a little awkwardly before she can stop herself. It’s probably not the most elegant or friendly way of asking this, but it’s too late (or too early, depending on how you see it) and she’s pretty sure most of her brain has decided to call it a day.

He doesn’t blink at the tone in her voice, or the question itself, merely lets himself plop down into the seat next to her, picking up a random chart off the table as he goes.

He flips through it for a few seconds and it should really annoy her more than it does (it probably would have a few weeks ago), but she’s probably either just too surprised or too tired to find it in herself to care.

She does raise her eyebrow at him though when he hasn’t replied after the better part of a minute and he puts down the chart with a small sigh.

“I couldn’t sleep so I came in,” he says simply, as if that is explanation enough for him to be here.

Her eyebrow climbs higher.

“And you decided to bug me?” she asks slowly, smiling despite herself.

He merely shrugs in reply.

“I knew you’d be awake,” he argues and well, it’s true, of course, but it’s not like he’s ever done this before, even when they were both working during the night.

It makes her feel a little giddy somehow. Because despite her uncertainty regarding him and the acquaintanceship they are slowly building - and they are, it’s true - there is really no reason for him to come down here in the middle of the night to sit with her when he couldn’t sleep. She’s seen his office - he has a very nice couch that is no doubt more comfortable than these chairs and a TV and a stereo system to boot. He could definitely busy himself for a while and probably fall back asleep shortly. But instead he decided to come down here and sit with her, knowing full well she might not want to or even have the time to talk to him and it’s, well, it’s  _ nice _ .

It does give her the feeling that what they are building is something real and not just a way for him to get her into bed.

And she knows by now that there is more to him than the persona he shows everyone, knows that his mask, while completely different from hers, probably exists for similar reasons than the one she wears.

So instead of sending him back upstairs or simply telling him she has to work, she reaches underneath the desk and pulls out the game of Uno the nurses have stashed there.

“Wanna play?” she asks with a smile.

He grins broadly in reply.

“Oh, it’s on!”

She only has to run off to check on a patient twice and ends up beating his pants off, of course, but he doesn’t seem too heartbroken about it. Instead he tells her he wants a re-match the next time they’re both working the night shift.

And, when she slowly makes her way to her car, taking a bite out of the Snickers he got her from the vending machine as a prize, she finds herself looking forward to it.

* * *

“Morning,” Lucifer greets her with a small smile two days later, coming to a halt next to the nurse’s station and Chloe returns it tentatively as the other cardiothoracic surgeons crowd around them for rounds.

It isn’t until she is halfway through presenting their second patient that she spots the white bandage on Lucifer’s hand - he’d been conveniently hiding it behind his back before - and almost drops her clipboard on the freshly operated patient. She shoots him a questioning look but he merely gives her another nonchalant smile and  _ oh he’s sneaky _ because of course she can’t say anything right now without making things extremely weird. So she keeps on walking the doctors through the patients, all the while sneaking glances at one particular surgeon who is definitely finding all of this a lot less interesting than he is pretending to right now.

When rounds are over she gets caught up in talking to the Chief of Surgery and Lucifer almost slips away. Fortunately, she does have a lot of practice with these things with her eight-year-old at home and just so manages to yank him back by the lapels of his pristine white lab coat.

“What the hell happened?” she hisses quietly, grabbing hold of his hand and inspecting it before he can even think of pulling it away.

He gives her a wide smile in reply, all white teeth and gorgeous dark eyes and he  _ must _ know she is not falling for this.

“Oh just a little disagreement between me and the scalpel, nothing to worry about, darling.”

She raises her eyebrow very slowly, both at this excuse and his placating use of the world ‘darling’ and he at least has the audacity to look a little bit chastised at that.

“Did you stitch it up yourself?” she inquires because she honestly can’t see him trusting one of his fellow surgeons with this. He is after all always complaining about their level of skill.

But, to her surprise he shakes his head immediately, looking almost scandalized by the mere suggestion.

“Of course not,” he exclaims a little defensively. “I know I am a bloody good surgeon but it’s my right hand that’s injured and I am unfortunately not ambidextrous. But…”

He wiggles his hand a bit in her grasp which finally makes her realize that she is still holding onto it kind of awkwardly. She lets go of it immediately - a little too fast maybe - and tries not to notice the way Lucifer almost looks disappointed. She’s most definitely not going down this road, ever.

“I had Charlotte stitch it up.”

Chloe can’t help the smile that makes its way onto her lips at his words despite her annoyance at his complete nonchalance over all of this.

“You had a plastic surgeon stitch up your hand? Wow, you really are vain.”

This earns her a look of mock indignation from Lucifer.

“But Dr. Decker,” he says and she shivers ever so slightly because there is just something about the way he says her name, all professional-sounding and yet not professional at all that gets to her despite her best efforts. “These hands are worth multiple millions. I was not about to let one of my colleagues do it. Or worse, a trauma surgeon.”

Rolling her eyes - something she tends to do a lot when he is around - Chloe lifts his hand up again to get a better look at the bandage.

“Well then you should really take better care of them them. And you should probably go down to the ER and have your blood work done. To rule out an infection of some kind. And did you even disinfect it properly because you know -  _ what _ ?”

During her talk Lucifer’s face has split into a wide, very smug grin and it’s enough to make her stop talking and shoot him a questioning look that soon morphs into understanding. Well, shit. And she’d been doing so well…

“Oh nothing,” he replies, sounding incredibly pleased. “But if I didn’t know any better, Doctor, I’d say it almost sounds like you care.”

She scoffs at that but can’t really bring herself to deny it because, well, it would be a lie and they both know it. And by the way Lucifer is still grinning at her, she knows he likes it, too, the smug, moronic,  _ careless _ bastard.

Raising his hand out of her grasp, he holds it out to her.

“You know, they do say that what helps the most is kissing it better. So would you care to do the honours?”

Shaking her head at his antics, she just shoves him lightly in reply, rolling her eyes again when he pretends to be hurt by it. 

But later that day, nurse Jen will tell her that Joe down in the ER saw Dr. Morningstar there to have his hand looked at and his blood drawn. And Chloe, sitting on her chair in front of a plethora of charts, will try really hard not to smile.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and (not so) sweet. I've also added a few short medical explanations at the end, let me know if you want to know anything else!

It’s been forever since she’s seen the inside of the OR.

Pulling the green scrub top over her head, Chloe sighs heavily. She’s definitely an intensive care doctor at heart but, as her boss helpfully reminded her when he loaned her out for the day, she was an anaesthesiologist first.

Still, she did not really think she would ever step foot in the OR again - at least not as a doctor. But it’s flu season which means there is a definite shortage of people who can administer anaesthesia  _ and _ tolerate Dr. Lucifer Morningstar at the same time, so today she’s drawn the short straw.

When she saw she was assigned to his OR that day she groaned. Because as much as they have built a tentative friendship over the last few months, they have never worked together like this before.

It’s going to be  _ interesting _ , that’s for sure.

She can tell from the moment she puts the woman under that this is going to be one shitty ride. She needs a lot of meds and just won’t go to sleep and when she does her blood pressure immediately takes a nosedive. 

Suffice it to say that by the time Chloe actually steps into the OR, she’s already pretty much done with it all. And that’s before Lucifer even opens his mouth.

Of course he decides to be full on Mr. Cardiothoracic Surgeon today, which in his world apparently means behaving like an absolute jerk. It’s only ten minutes into the surgery that Chloe first actually considers stabbing him with a needle and injecting him with a healthy dose of propofol.

Unfortunately that would only increase her problems. And her paperwork. And probably get her fired. 

Most of all she really does not want to do the paperwork, though.

Plus she’s got her hands full with one sedated patient who is apparently competing with Lucifer when it comes to who can make her life harder that day. First it’s her blood pressure and then she decides to go into V-Tach because, well,  _ why the hell not _ ?

She’s just let the rest of the team know what’s going on and has sent the nurse anaesthetist to do an arterial blood gas analysis and is turning her head back to the monitor when Lucifer decides that now would be a great time to get involved in this.

“Are you sure you have everything under control, Dr. Decker?” he has the audacity to ask without even looking up from what he’s doing.

Chloe just gapes at him from under her surgical mask because  _ did he really just say that _ ?

“Excuse me,” she says, voice deadly calm and it seems to get to him at least a little bit because he raises his head slowly and only just meets her eyes. “Are you telling me you don’t think I can do my job properly?”

The fact that he doesn’t know what to reply to this only makes things worse.

Narrowing her eyes, Chloe takes a deep breath and then another one, telling herself that strangling him is not an appropriate reaction here.

“Dr. Morningstar,” she finally replies, voice sugary sweet. “I’d appreciate it if you worried about your job instead of mine. I think it’d be really good if we didn’t prolong the surgery any longer than absolutely necessary, don’t you agree?”

Thankfully, the nurse anesthetist comes back before he can reply, holding the results of the blood gas analysis in his hands, saving her from further conversation with Lucifer.

He ends up keeping unusually quiet for the rest of the surgery which is just as well because she is still fuming. Stabilizing her patient keeps her fairly busy though and she can’t help the small sigh of relief when she wheels her over to the ICU afterwards and hands her off to her colleague. She is glad she’s going to be back in the ICU the next day and will be able to check on the woman.

On her way back, she avoids Lucifer by walking straight into the women’s locker room to drink something before her next surgery.

He isn’t there when she comes back, instead she’s working with a different doctor for the remaining two short surgeries. In fact, to her relief (and very slight disappointment though she would not admit to that even under torture), she doesn’t see Lucifer again all day. 

But, when she makes her way to her car at the end of it, she finds a big pack of Kinder chocolate bars stuck to the windshield, together with a note that just says “I have complete faith in your abilities, Dr. Decker. I hope you enjoy the chocolate”.

She has no idea where he got it from when he too was working all day, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a peace offering and the closest to an apology she is probably going to get from him.

For a brief second, she considers staying mad - he really was out of line ther - but the note seems  _ so sincere _ and if there’s one thing he has made clear from the start it’s that he values her skills as a doctor.

So she opens the pack and grabs a bar. And maybe, just maybe there is a small hint of a smile on her face when she pulls out of the car park.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Propofol: right now very much the standard drug to induce and maintain general anesthesia in my country. It's generally very well tolerated and - and that's very important for anesthesiologists - it is short-acting, which means the patient will quickly wake up again once you stop administering it. Side effects include the stopping of breathing (which is not an issue in general anesthesia, since you intubate and ventilate the patients anyway) and low blood pressure among other fun things. 
> 
> Ventricular tachycardia (V-tach, VT): a form of arrhythmia where your heart beats really fast (>120bpm) and that is potentially life-threatening. Best case scenario, you'll feel palpitations. Worst case scenario: sudden cardiac death. V-tach has a number of different causes, among them electrolyte imbalances, endocrine disorders and certain drugs. In the patient I once had in the OR with V-tach, hypokalemia (low potassium) was the cause!  
> Fun fact: Pulseless V-tach is one of TWO shockable rhythms (the other one is Ventricular fibrillation (V-fib). Asystole on the other hand is NOT a shockable rhythm.
> 
> Arterial blood gas analysis (ABG): a test that you regularly perform in all kinds of emergency settings (ER, stroke unit, ICU) to measure, as the name says, the blood gases in a person's blood. That includes oxygen saturation and carbon dioxide and the blood pH but you can also detect electrolyte imbalances, etc. Regular labs take time, an ABG you can just put in a blood gas analyzer and it will give you a result in 30 seconds that can already tell you QUITE A LOT about what's wrong with your patient!


	5. Chapter 5

It’s a slow day in the ICU which basically just means that it’s almost noon and there haven’t been any major catastrophes or resuscitations yet. So when Lucifer stops by the nurse’s desk and casually asks her if she wants to get lunch, she nods in confirmation.

“Great,” he says with a blithe smile. “Go get your stuff then.”

She frowns in confusion. It’s only then that she realizes he’s not actually in a lab-coat but wearing one of his suits instead.

“My stuff?” she asks, unsure of what exactly she is supposed to get other than her wallet.

He grins at her.

“Well your clothes, of course. Unless you’d prefer to go out in scrubs?”

Go out…wait, _what_?

“Out?” She repeats slowly, still very much bewildered. “Where?”

He shrugs and shoots her another grin, but she can see the underlying nervousness that’s etched into the sharp lines of his face as he replies.

“I thought we could escape the dreadful cafeteria food for once and go somewhere else,” he says simply and then, before she has the chance to protest, he’s already ushering her out of her seat.

“Come on, chop, chop, we don’t have all day.”

She’s still very puzzled as she lets him march her to the changing room where she gets dressed in record time before she can change her mind and decide that this is actually a very, very bad idea. Grabbing her coat and stuffing her phone and wallet into her handbag, she shakes her head as she closes the door of her locker, unsure about what to make of this entire situation just yet.

She’s well aware that her colleagues are looking at her strangely, probably wondering what the hell she is doing leaving the hospital in the middle of the day with Lucifer Morningstar of all people.

She knows they talk. But she also knows she doesn’t mind nearly as much as she would have a few months ago. So she ignores them and just lets him take her to a small deli a few streets away from the hospital where they sit at a little table by the window.

And it’s nice.

First of all, her sandwich is delicious and well, the company isn’t too bad either. Somehow being away from the hospital takes away a bit of the stiffness that still remains in their conversation despite of how far they’ve come in her friendship.

She honestly can’t remember the last time she’s laughed so much. And to think that when they first met she could barely stand to be in the same room as Lucifer and now - 

Now she thinks she sees him for who he really is. Actually nice and caring and fun to be around and so insecure despite all of his bravado. She remembers how nervous he looked when he asked her to lunch and she has to smile because they are so different and yet in some ways, it feels like they are also very similar. Both strong-willed and hard-working and afraid of disappointing, both themselves and others even though they’d never admit it. And both afraid of real, honest commitment.

(The fact that they are not even dating and this is the closest she’s been to being in a relationship with someone in years is something that she’s trying to ignore but that stands true nevertheless).

But this? Lunch, outside of the hospital, shyly smiling at each other over their respective sandwiches and talking about everything and nothing, it surprisingly doesn’t feel like too much.

Instead it feels _just right_.

Lost in thoughts, Chloe doesn’t even realize Lucifer is talking to her until he waves a hand in front of her face with a small, cheeky smile.

“Oh hello again, darling, you seemed to have zoned out for a minute.”

She raises her eyebrow at his use of “darling”, but is nevertheless quick to apologize.

“Sorry, I got a bit lost in my thoughts. What did you ask?”

He grins at her, a wide, boyish smile that makes her heart leap a tiny little bit in her chest.

“I noticed, you were miles away, whatever were you thinking about?”

Before she can reply he adds: “and I was just wondering if you’d maybe like to do this again. Say, over dinner next time? There’s an amazing Seafood restaurant I’ve been meaning to try.”

The tinge of nervousness is back in his voice, so subtle that she almost misses it, and she can’t help but feel a swirl of affection rise up in her chest because he’s adorable when he’s nervous like this, all large, dark puppy dog eyes and the tiniest hitch in his voice.

“Sure,” she nods in confirmation, feeling giddy and nervous at the same time because oh, it’s been long since she’s been on a date. It’s been too long and she’s not one-hundred percent sure this is a good idea because he’s _him_ and she’s _her_ and _they work together_ but then again she’s grown to like him, _really_ like him and he’s so different from how she thought he was going to be. And she knows, she knows this is not something he does all the time, take women (and men) out to dinner outside of the hospital and crash their night shifts when he could be sleeping to play card games with them and well, maybe, maybe this could be a good thing.

He smiles at her then and oh yes, it could be a very good thing.

It doesn’t occur to her until much later when she’s back in the ICU, cheek still tingling from where he gave her a very chaste peck goodbye and smiling like a goddamn schoolgirl that he actually tricked her into a lunch date just to ask her on a real date in the first place, that sneaky bastard.

Shaking her head slowly but still grinning ear to ear, she grabs her cell phone from the pocket of her scrub top and texts Ella and Maze.

She’s definitely going to need some help with this.

* * *

“I’m sorry, mommy,” Trixie whispers from where she’s lying in bed, her head barely visible above the cocoon of blankets and pillows that is surrounding her. “I know how much you were looking forward to this date.”

Wrapping her arms around her daughter, Chloe pulls her in for a hug and gently presses her lips to the girl’s feverish forehead.

“Oh Trix, it’s not your fault,” she replies with a soft smile. “You’ll always be my number one priority. You know that right?”

Trixie nods slowly and Chloe pulls back to lock eyes with her daughter.

“I love you,” she tells her earnestly, watching as her child’s puffy face breaks into a small smile.

“Love you, too, mommy.”

Pressing another soft kiss to Trixie’s cheek, Chloe gets up from the bed slowly and wraps the blankets more tightly around her daughter’s small frame.

“Get some sleep, babe,” she says quietly. “I’ll see if I can whip you up some soup.”

Closing the door behind her, Chloe sighs quietly as she makes her way to the kitchen.

She’d be lying if she was saying that she’s not disappointed. Of course she is, she’d been looking forward to this all week, but her daughter will always come first. So she didn’t hesitate for a second before calling Lucifer to tell him that they’d have to postpone their date.

He was understanding, of course. She feels like people don’t give him enough credit when it comes to these things, but he’s not actually an asshole and he probably knows how much her daughter means to her. They had a late-night conversation about it once, in the middle of their card game. She told him about Trixie, and while she’s pretty sure he doesn’t completely understand it - there’s a rumor at the hospital that his family history is pretty messed up and she knows he doesn’t have any children of his own - he can definitely accept it. So he told her he’d hold her to the promise of a postponement of their date and wished her a good night.

“Make sure you get some rest, too, Chloe.”

It was the first time he’d used her first name and the soft cadence of it had echoed in her head long after she’d hung up the phone.

She’s in the process of scouring the fridge for things to put in the soup she’s planning on making for Trixie when the sound of the doorbell ringing pulls her from her reverie. Startled, she drops the celery she was holding, cursing lightly as she grabs it from the floor. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she deposits it on the kitchen counter and closes the fridge before making her way over to the front door.

The sight that greets her when she opens it is enough to make her eyes widen in surprise.

It’s Lucifer, dressed in his usual suit, hair tousled and the first two buttons undone, holding a basket in one hand and a travel mug (are those _devil emojis_ printed on its surface?) in the other.

She’s not going to lie and say that the sight doesn’t do things to her, but it’s a little overshadowed by the fact that she is pretty sure she cancelled on him a bit over two hours ago.

“Hello Chloe,” he says warmly, a small smile playing around his lips. “I figured with your child sick you would be too busy to cook. And since it’d be a shame for you to miss out on the sea bass at Providence, I figured I’d just bring it to you.”

Still smiling, he lifts up the travel mug. “I also got some soup for…Beatrice, was it?”

“Trixie,” Chloe manages to say despite her surprise.

He shakes his head at that.

“That’s a hooker’s name,” he argues and Chloe has to laugh both because it’s such a Lucifer thing to say and also because he can be so sweet sometimes and this is probably the nicest thing anyone has done for her in a long time (right up there on the list with all the other nice things Lucifer has done for her recently but it’s best not to think too hard about all of this, it makes her head spin).

“Anyway,” he continues. “Here you go. I hope Beatrice will feel better soon.”

He hands her the basket and the travel mug and has turned around so quickly that Chloe barely has time to react.

“Wait,” she calls out after him, stopping him in his tracks.

He turns around slowly and she gives him a big smile.

“Why don’t you come in for a bit? I am assuming you have brought enough food to feed a small army and I think I still have a bottle of red wine somewhere.”

His answering grin is confirmation enough that this is indeed the right decision.

“So, where’s the child?” Lucifer asks basically as soon as she’s closed the door behind him.

Chloe halts in her steps and turns around, eyeing him a bit suspiciously.

“Trixie’s sleeping,” she replies slowly. “Why?”

Lucifer just shrugs but she definitely notices how his shoulders sag a little in what looks to be relief.

“No reason,” he says airily, turning on his heels a little to survey the room.

Chloe raises her eyebrow, a small smile climbing onto her lips in realization.

“Wait,” she begins, her smile now morphing into a full-fledged grin. “Don’t tell me that tough cardio surgeon Dr. Lucifer Morningstar is afraid of an eight-year-old?”

He gives her a look at that which is not nearly as convincing as he probably thinks (hopes) it is.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he declares a bit too vehemently. “I just find children to be a little too…excited most of the time. They tend to cling to me. Ruins the Armani.”

Glancing at Chloe for a second, he’s quick to add: “But yours is fine I’m sure.”

A wry smirk appears on her lips.

“Well I definitely think so,” she replies.

After a quick tour and a brief argument (“I’m not drinking that cardboard concoction you call wine, Chloe”) they finally settle on the couch with food and a way-too-expensive bottle of wine that he’d brought with him.

Chloe has to admit, the sea bass is to die for. 

And just like with their lunch, conversation between them flows easily. They talk about work and themselves - she learns that Lucifer loves cooking and likes to play piano in his free-time.

“You should come by my place sometimes, I will play you something.”

Chloe can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the request, and the implication that this is definitely not a one time thing.

“I’d love to,” she replies simply, trying not to give away just how much.

Their conversation soon turns to family and she tells him about the hardship of raising a daughter by herself while working full-time as a doctor, of missed PTA meetings and lots of babysitters walking in and out her front door.

“Is the child’s father not around at all?” he asks and if she notices the way in which he seems almost forlorn when he says it, she doesn’t mention it.

Chloe sighs heavily at the mention of Trixie’s dad.

“Oh he is,” she says quietly. “Just not as much as Trix and I would like. He’s just…very inconsistent in his appearances. He says it’s because of work but, well, I’m a doctor, too and I manage.”

“And you are doing a fantastic job, I dare say,” Lucifer responds with a reassuring smile that she returns in kind.

They fall silent for a few seconds then.

“What about your family?” Chloe inquires after a few beats. She immediately knows it’s the wrong thing to say, it’s evident in the way Lucifer draws into himself ever so slightly, his face growing darker. It’s almost imperceptible but she’s been spending too much time with him recently not to notice.

“I’m sorry,” she backtracks immediately, not wanting him to close off completely. “I just - “

“It’s okay,” Lucifer interrupts her with a quick wave of his hand and a soft sigh. “It’s just that I’d rather not talk about it right now. My father and I…well, we don’t exactly have the best kind of relationship. Let’s just say I was never quite good enough for him.”

Scooting a bit closer to him, Chloe covers his hand with hers.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Lucifer. And I know that doesn’t make any of it better but I…I think you turned out pretty well.”

His fingers curl around hers in reply and when she looks up to meet his eyes, she is startled by the raw emotion brimming in them.

“I…,” he trails off for a second to clear his throat. “I think you’re not too bad yourself, Doc.”

Laughing, she shakes her head at his moniker before sobering up again.

And then it’s silent again and for the first time this evening, things feel kind of awkward. She’s just trying to figure out whether to move much closer or further away when Lucifer makes the decision for her by pulling back and dropping the hand that had, until a few seconds ago, still been clasped in his own hand as if he had been burned.

“Right,” he begins, then pauses for a second. “Well, it is getting awfully late and I unfortunately have many unpleasant things to attend to tomorrow, so I better be off.”

Getting up slowly, he adjusts his jacket while Chloe swallows down her slight disappointment at how the situation is unfolding.

Maybe not entirely how I imagined it would go…

“Well,” Lucifer continues as they slowly move towards the front door. “It’s been delightful and…”

He pauses for another second while he seems to consider his next words.

“Would you care to do this again?” he finishes his thought, looking just as nervous as he had when he’d first asked her out.

Chloe can’t help but smile despite herself.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I’d love to.”

His answering smile lights up his entire face.

“Perfect,” he replies. “Anyway…I hope Beatrice will feel much better soon. I guess I’ll see you Monday morning.”

And with that, he kisses her cheek - lasting a bit longer than what would necessarily be considered appropriate - and is out the door before she can even muster up a reply.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet which - if you know me at all - never bodes well for the characters. Spoiler alert? I guess so.

It’s 9:36pm on a Thursday night and Chloe Decker _could_ be asleep right now.

Which means that she really should be asleep right now.

If there is one thing you learn pretty fast as a doctor it’s to savour any minute of sleep you can possibly get during an on-call shift because you never know just how much rest you’ll get (it probably won’t be a lot). There are rumors, of course, of doctors actually getting a full night’s sleep but since she’s never actually met anyone who has been this fortunate, Chloe is not about to believe that this is even a possibility.

In any case, she should probably head to bed and hope for at least a few short, fretful hours in the too-small bed that seems to serve as yet another poignant reminder that on-call shifts are not actually meant for sleep. But the truth is, Chloe Decker doesn’t want to go to bed. Instead, she’d much rather sit on the comfortable couch in Lucifer’s office next to the man himself, eating popcorn and bickering about which movie to watch.

It turns out to be a very heated discussion.

“But Chloe,” Lucifer is arguing just this second, giving her one of his rare wide and open smiles that totally do not have any effect on her at all. “This is my office. My office, my choice, isn’t that how the saying goes?”

Well, smile or not, Chloe is not giving in that easily. She’s been playing this game with him for months. So she just gives him a pointed smirk.

“First of all,” she begins, drawing out the syllables and popping a few kernels of popcorn in her mouth for good measure. “There is absolutely no saying like this. Second of all, you lured me here and promised me an extraordinary evening of movies and food. So far all I’ve gotten is some popcorn and you trying to convince me _The Godfather_ is a viable movie choice.”

Locking her gaze with his, she picks up her glass and takes a long sip of water.

“If that’s all you’re offering, I may have to go back to the ICU and entertain myself some other way.”

The second the words are out of her mouth, she regrets them a tiny little bit, because of the leer that appears on Lucifer’s face. They both know it’s an empty threat and that there’s no way she’ll be trading any of this in for a smelly on-call room with a truly scary collection of old toothbrushes.

“But Doc,” he says, the same happy grin still on his face and _oh_ , it’s such a good look on him. “I am sure we could find more amusing forms of entertainment. I’m game if you are.”

Well, she definitely should have expected that. Rolling her eyes at his words, she swats at him, but he catches her hand mid-air and pulls her into him a little bit until their sides are almost - but not quite - touching. Her breath catches in her throat and she turns her head ever so slightly to look at him, tries to capture his gaze with hers but he’s pointedly looking at everything but her while still keeping his arm loosely draped around her.

She sighs to herself because isn’t Dr. Lucifer Morningstar just the king of mixed signals? Flirting with her, asking her out and then seemingly getting cold feet again. She doesn’t quite know what to do with any of this except she really wants to kiss him. Which is hilarious, because not quite 6 months ago she hated his guts, hated how he flirted with her and now she’s kind of disappointed he’s not being forward enough.

Ugh, she thinks - can almost hear Maze’s voice in her mind as she does so - emotions are truly the worst sometimes. 

Sighing again, she leans forward to grab another handful of popcorn but somehow wildly overestimates just how loosely (or not) Lucifer is holding onto her and ends up tumbling back into him and - way worse - slipping so that instead of the popcorn her hand is suddenly directly on his crotch.

For two infinitely long second there is silence as they both merely stare at each other, eyes wide. Chloe recovers first, flying away from him at lightning speed until she’s basically sitting on the edge of the couch.

“Um,” she says, can feel herself turn redder and redder by the second and tries to focus on anything but what she _very distinctly_ felt against her hand a moment ago. “I’m sorry, I just…I wanted to grab the popcorn…”

She waits for him to leer at her, make an innuendo or anything but to her surprise he doesn’t. Instead he just regards her for a few more seconds, eyes wide before he quietly - voice sounding very strained - says:

“No harm done, Doc”

“Okay.”

Silence falls over them again and then -

“Oh bloody hell - “ Lucifer begins just as she says “screw it” and suddenly his lips are on hers and her hands are in his hair and he’s kissing her - _he’s kissing her_ \- pulling her flush against his body while his hands move down her sides, over the scratchy fabric of her scrub top to settle on her hips and ass and pull her infinitely closer still.

She has no idea how long they’re kissing, but when they finally break apart they are both panting heavily and his hair is tousled (she’s sure hers is not looking much better, she has no idea where her hair tie even went) and he’s looking at her with this soft look that makes her heart jump and she just, she has to -

She leans in again and this time the kiss is oh so gentle. When she pulls back the wide smile from earlier is back on Lucifer’s face, bright and happy.

“We should do that more often,” he says slowly and she can feel her own smile blooming on her face.

“Yeah,” she replies, still a little breathless. “We really should.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know The Godfather probably counts as a good movie choice for many but I'm just not a fan.  
> Can I just say that the most unrealistic thing for me about medical shows is always that the doctors voluntarily give up sleep to have sex or make out during 24+hr shifts so I can't believe I actually wrote this. WHO AM I??? (sincerely, a doctor who worked three 22hr shifts this week)
> 
> Also sorry for the delay. I don't even have an excuse as I wrote this chapter like two years ago. Whoops.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s Monday morning and Dr. Lucifer Morningstar is in an amazing mood despite the early wake-up call. So great, in fact, that he doesn’t even realize he’s been quietly humming to himself until his OR nurse raises an eyebrow at him as she lays out the instruments for the first surgery.

“You okay, Dr. Morningstar?” she asks, regarding him with a certain amount of amusement. “You’re not usually a Monday person or a morning person.”

Lucifer just grins, eyes twinkling merrily in the too bright lights of the operating theatre.

“I’m splendid actually, thanks for asking,” he replies happily, ignoring the way her eyebrows seem to climb impossibly higher. “I had an absolutely wonderful weekend.”

He has, it’s true. It started on Thursday with a night shift of all things - would you believe it - that he should have hated because he didn’t get much sleep but it doesn’t matter because Chloe was right there with him and they kissed and after she fell asleep in his arms, warm and pliant against his body and he might have been called away for an emergency surgery just an hour later but she’d waken up with him and kissed him again - so utterly _soft_ and _gentle_ \- and he hadn’t been able to stop smiling all the way through the procedure. And then he’d taken her out on Saturday and they’d grinned at each other over wine and delicious food and she’d let him walk her home and even asked him in for a night cap which led to them making out on her couch for half an hour after.

So yeah, suffice it to say he is _pretty fucking happy_ this Monday morning and it’s made even better by the fact that he knows, he knows he’s going to see her later.

Lost in thoughts, he doesn’t realize the nurse is grinning at him now, instead he just keeps humming to himself as he finishes prepping for the surgery.

An hour later, the procedure is in full swing and is going as well as it can be expected.

Focused on the task at hand - the removal of a too-young man’s cancerous lung lobe - he doesn’t notice the two newcomers in his OR until one of them finally speaks up.

“Lucifer,” the female of the two says and the addressed looks up swiftly, his irritation at the intrusion clearly visible even though the surgical mask covers most of his face.

“Dr. Bellant,” he replies, voice steely as his gaze finds that of his colleague. “Maybe you should get your eyes checked because -”

“Lucifer,” the other doctor repeats, voice softer this time and laced with something akin to a mixture of shock and sadness. It’s enough to halt Lucifer in what was definitely gathering up to be an angry rant as he feels a sense of dread wash over him. “You’re needed in the trauma room. I’m going to take over here.”

Lucifer almost - _almost_ \- drops his scalpel.

He scrubs out in record time and somehow makes it to the trauma room in seven minutes, heart racing and mind numb.

* * *

“What do we know?” he bellows as soon as he has entered, takes in the plethora of doctors and nurses already gathered there.

The trauma surgeon in charge looks up at him, eyes dark, before he starts rattling off what he knows.

“She was crossing the street on a green light when a car turning right didn’t see her and hit her on her left side. Multiple traumata, though we don’t know the full extent of her injuries just yet. We have confirmation of a head trauma and possible pelvic fracture as well as multiple other smaller fractures. Last GCS was 8, so they’ve intubated her as a precaution. We’ve already ordered packed cells and trauma CT is on standby. They’re 3 minutes out.”

For one brief second, Lucifer thinks the floor might give in. Swaying slightly, he holds onto the wall next to him before straightening up again.

The trauma surgeon regards him worriedly.

“Look man, I know you two are close so if you’d rather…,” he begins but Lucifer cuts him off immediately.

“If you think I will leave right now, Dr. Mendrey, I encourage you to think again,” he almost growls. Dr. Mendrey nods slowly, clearly taken aback.

“I need to be here,” he continues more quietly and the trauma surgeon nods again in understanding. And he does, Lucifer realizes. All of the people in this room do. As an intensive care specialist, Chloe has worked with most people in this room for years. They all know and appreciate her, she is one of them and it’s hard, it’s really hard.

It’s so much harder for him. This morning, he was the happiest he’s been in a long time and now, now he isn’t sure what it is exactly that is still holding him together. His legs feel like they might give in at any second and every time he just as much as closes his eyes for the briefest of seconds, all he can see is her and the way she smiled at him when she said that she would see him on Monday.

On Saturday they had all the time in the world. And now? Now Chloe is lying in the back of an ambulance, unconscious and with a head injury and he’s been a doctor for long enough to know that this means she may never open her eyes again.

And he wants to yell. He wants to hit something. He wants to break down and cry. Because it’s so unfair. It’s so unfair.

He’s a doctor. He just operated on a 27 year old non-smoking male with a lung tumor. He knows life is not fair but he just…

He needs her to be okay. He needs _her_.

In the past couple of months, his life has gotten significantly brighter and better, more so than he would have envisioned a year ago. And it’s because of her and them and he can’t lose her.

He can’t. He just can’t.

He has no idea what he’ll do if she dies.

* * *

He can’t breathe.

All around him people are moving and he can hear the paramedic ratting off parameters to the trauma surgeon as someone else gets the ultrasonic device but he can’t see it, can’t see anything but her and the blood on the back of her head and how she’s lying too still, too unmoving, how her pulse is too fast and her blood pressure too low, how wrong the endotracheal tube helping her breathe looks.

How wrong all of this is.

He tries to step closer but someone pushes him out of the way. There is a flurry of activity, so many people are grabbing at her, checking her pelvis for instability and her abdomen for free fluid, shining a light into her eyes and fiddling with the respirator. Someone switches her infusion and it’s only then that he realizes she must have been so centralised _they actually drilled a hole into her goddamn humerus_.

He wants to scream, wants to yell but he can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe and he needs to sit down because the room is spinning all of the sudden and he has the sudden urge to push everyone away and cradle her protectively in his arms even when he knows they are doing everything they can to save her while he is just standing there trying to remember how to fill his lungs with oxygen but they won’t comply, his throat is constricting and it hurts, it hurts to breathe.

It’s all too much.

It’s too much and he just, he _wants_ , he _needs_ , he needs her to open her eyes, to see that endless blue, wants to swim in it, doesn’t care if he drowns.

He needs her to be okay. He needs her.

Simple as that.

“Let’s get her to CT,” someone shouts and he blinks and when he opens his eyes again they are gone and all that’s left inside the room is him and a big, dark red puddle of blood.

He thinks he’s going to throw up.

* * *

They won’t let him sit in on her surgery.

Of course they don’t, there are too many people and he’s a cardiothoracic surgeon and they are too close but he still spends too long arguing about it anyway.

He slumps to the floor in front of the operating tract instead, right next to Ella and Maze and Linda as well as a few of Chloe’s favourite ICU colleagues and nurses who are all wearing matching impressions of worry and fear.

They don’t talk, but every once in a while, one of them goes in to check on her progress and every time they come back, all he can think is at least she is still alive.

It’s what he clings to in the many hours that pass until at last, the (first) surgery is over.

“She’s stable so far,” the anaesthesiologist tells the small group of people when he comes to find them. “The decompressive craniotomy was a success. Unfortunately, she still needs quite a heavy dose of dobutamine and norepinephrine. We’re keeping her sedated and intubated for now. She’s going to need further surgeries for her pelvis and leg, so far they’ve been stabilized in external fixation, but that’s secondary right now.”

Looking Lucifer in the eyes, he sighs.

“Now all we can do is wait and see. I suggest you guys go home for the day…there really is nothing you can do right now and we all know she’s in the best possible hands.” 

Giving them a tight smile, the anaesthesiologist turns around, throwing his mask into the garbage as he goes.

* * *

It’s nearing midnight and the hospital is quiet, but the ICU is not. It never is, really, a constant cacophony of sounds, beeping, wails, the tired chatter of the nurses. Lucifer doesn’t know how anyone is supposed to recover here. It doesn’t matter right now, though, because Chloe is still sedated and intubated.

He doesn’t know if she can hear anything right now. It’s a subject of debate among the medical community, but he really, really hopes she doesn’t. It must be scary, he thinks as he presses a soft kiss to her cheek, one of the parts of her face that is not covered by a big bandage.

He is sitting by her side, holding her hand clasped tightly in his, alternating between watching the steadily beeping monitor and her face.

Instead of going home like the anaesthesiologist said, Lucifer snuck in here shortly after the surgery and the nurses have not seriously tried to throw him out yet. They must know how much she means to him, he thinks to himself and finds that the thought doesn’t scare him as much as he thought it would.

A real relationship was not something he ever thought he needed, or wanted, he was always satisfied with having an ever-revolving door of partners but somehow, somehow that changed and now -

Now he knows it’s what he needs and he also knows it’s what he might lose, what he could lose any second.

Nothing matters when time is ticking by and you have no way of stopping it. No way of halting the world.

He finds himself holding his breath occasionally, just waiting for it, the flat line on the monitor and the long, endless beeping sound indicating her body’s inability to cope with her injuries.

He exhales slowly when her heart keeps beating steadily and closes his eyes for a second.

His thoughts have narrowed down to this: he needs her to be okay.

It’s all that matters right now.

And, when he presses another soft kiss to her knuckles, he finds himself - perhaps for the first time in his entire life - praying to God that she will be okay.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but not really? Even if this is a very dramatic turn of events. ~~And don't worry, I only gave Chloe a big epidural hematoma. No subarachnoidal bleeding or subdural hematoma ;)~~
> 
> Also, I'm honestly very happy most people will not notice the slight exaggerations here. Let's just say that I definitely understand TV show writers' need to make everything sound more dramatic even if that means things aren't totally accurate anymore.
> 
> A short medical glossary:  
> Glasgow Coma Scale = a scoring system used to assess the level of consciousness in patients with traumatic brain injury. Eye response, verbal response and motor response are taken into account and the score ranges from 3 points (deep unconsciousness) to 15 points (fully conscious). A score of 8 points or less is usually an indication for tracheal intubation.
> 
> Intraosseous infusion = quite literally drilling a hole into someone's bone (preferably femur, humerus, etc) to inject drugs and fluids into the bone marrow. You'd do this if you cannot get an i.v. line in fast enough (and other routes of administration, like a central line, are not feasible, e.g. if you're a first responder). To be honest I've only seen it done a few times. Usually when someone is in shock and so centralized that you can't find any peripheral veins to puncture. 
> 
> Decompressive craniotomy = removing a part of the skull. Why would you do that? The biggest problem with brain swelling is (very simplified) that the brain - unlike other structures in the human body - does not really have a lot of space because it is confined within the skull. Long story short, parts of the brain are compressed and shifted, e.g. downwards in the direction of the big hole at the base of your skull (foramen magnum) a process that's called herniation and that can be _very deadly_. So you remove a part of the skull to relieve pressure on the brain. If someone has epidural hematoma, for example, because of where the bleeding is located between the tough outer membrane (dura mater) of the brain and the skull, if you evacuate the bleeding, you pretty much fix the issue!
> 
> If you have any other questions regarding this, medical or otherwise, feel free to hit me up @moonatoms on tumblr!


	8. Chapter 8

Lucifer sighs quietly as he puts his tray down, and unceremoniously plops onto one of the chairs next to the table.

Picking up his fork, he dives into his food without much appetite, shovelling pasta into his mouth quickly and without much care for the taste.

He doesn’t want to stay away for too long. He hadn’t really wanted to leave in the first place. But Chloe’s child had shown up, accompanied by her father and the nurses decided this was as good as any opportunity to kick him out. He’d gotten stern instructions to eat and shower - they’d tried for a nap, too, but he had ignored that - and when he left the ICU and his stomach had reminded him, quite unhappily, that he hadn’t eaten since the day before, he’d made his way to the cafeteria first.

They haven’t tried to let her wake up yet. They are just being cautious, the neurosurgeon and trauma surgeon reassured him. She suffered a major trauma to her head and pelvis and has lost a lot of blood, and while her scans are looking as good as they can in this situation, nobody can predict just how extensive the damage her body has sustained is. She is off the catecholamines, at least, and he was told that they’ll be attempting a wake-up call soon. But for now she is still asleep and with every passing minute, he can feel the dread rising in his chest as the what-ifs swirls around in his mind.

For the first time in as long as he can remember, he’s afraid. He’s never felt so helpless before. He’s a cardiac surgeon and a damn good one, too. He is used to doing something, not just sitting around while the machines beep next to him and she continues to lie there so  _ utterly still _ . While her daughter cries at her bedside. While doctors and nurses flutter around them, changing infusions and jotting down vital parameters.

And he can’t do a bloody thing, can only hold onto her hand, or move out of the way and watch from afar, the blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, her chest rising and falling as oxygen is pumped into her lungs.

Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice Maze standing next to him until she starts speaking.

“You look like hell,” she says as she drops down into the seat next to him, eyes meeting his, the dark orbs coloured with concern. “Still no change?”

Lucifer shakes his head, once, twice and Maze nods darkly.

“Right,” she replies, taking a bite out of her sandwich and chewing slowly, her eyes never once leaving his face.

“Kessler wants to operate her as soon as possible,” she continues after a few seconds, referring to the chief of trauma surgery. “Now that she’s stable.”

Lucifer nods but doesn’t reply or look up at all when Maze keeps speaking.

“She has a long road of her, you know. The head injury, of course, but a fractured pelvis is no walk in the park either.”

Lucifer’s head shoots up at her words.

“You think I do not know that?” he asks, his voice laced with something dark that makes Maze raise up her hand slowly and put down her sandwich.

“I’m just saying, Lucifer. You’re not exactly known for playing house. I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Regarding him carefully, her voice softens a tad.

“Look, I know you care about her and you’re my friend, but so is she. She’s been through a lot, her ex-husband is a douche and I don’t want to see her hurt. Or you, for that matter. I just want you to be sure that you can deal with this. Because things won’t be easy.”

“Do you really think so little of me, Mazikeen?” Lucifer asks very slowly. Maze looks down for a moment at the tone in his voice, and then she shakes her head softly before lifting her gaze again to meet his once more.

“I think a lot of you, Lucifer,” she replies evenly, and he knows she means it. “But you’re not exactly patient, and you don’t have the best track record with people. I know you would never purposely hurt someone.”

Fixing him with her gaze, she picks up her sandwich again, turning it in her hand.

“I just want you to be careful,” she finishes after a beat.

Lucifer nods and takes a deep breath, and then another one.

“This is different, Maze,” he says quietly. “She’s different.”

Maze nods carefully.

“Good,” she replies.

* * *

When he gets back to Chloe’s room freshly showered and dressed in new scrubs, he finds it empty of people. Stepping closer to the bed, he bows down and gently presses a kiss to her still forehead, before sitting down in the chair adjacent to it. Picking up her hand, he cradles it in his bigger one before carefully lacing their fingers and closing his eyes.

When the nurse comes in to check on her patient half an hour later, she finds him folded into the too-small chair, lulled into a fitful sleep by the steady beeping of the machine and the soft weight of Chloe’s hand in his.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up on the point where I have no more pre-written chapters and will have to start actually writing new chapters. Oh no.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so late I'm so sorry, I've been a bit busy with real-life stuff and honestly have not felt like writing much.

He isn’t allowed to be there for the extubation. The doctor in him understands. Extubation is a critical phase and not only is he personally involved in this, but he is also a medical professional. Even though he is not an intensivist, he would probably realize if something was off. 

When he left, she was breathing on her own already though, the steady beeping of the monitor an assurance that she is stable. 

So he went home and showered and took a short nap before making his way back to the hospital. He doesn’t know what to expect. The surgeries were a success. Her injuries, albeit serious and life-threatening, are not the worst he’s ever seen. She’s young and healthy and her scans are looking as good as they can. Yes, she has a long road of recovery ahead of her, but as far as statistics go, she  _ should _ be okay. But he also knows - better than most people - that this doesn’t necessarily mean she will be.

The room is empty when he enters. Her eyes are closed but she is breathing on her own. He glances over at the monitor, notes with relief that her oxygen saturation is at 99%, and pulls up a chair. His hand finds hers on top of the covers and he squeezes it softly. Her eyelids flutter and a quiet moan escapes her lips as her fingers curl slowly around his.

His eyes shoot up to her face, cataloguing the way her face scrunches into a grimace, the way her body is shifting around on the mattress, her soft whimpers and he’s on his feet immediately, presses the call button, his other hand still tightly clutching hers.

“Chloe,” he calls softly.

Her eyes flicker open, unfocused blue seas.

“Hurts,” she moans, whispers it again and again, her eyes becoming clearer and finally, finally meeting his and he presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, feels the relief well up inside him because even if he hates seeing her in pain like this, she is  _ awake _ and she’s  _ talking _ .

“I know, love,” he says, cupping her face softly in his hand, “I’ve already called for help.” 

She nods, slowly.

“What happened?”, she asks, her voice hoarse and he watches as she turns her head, takes in her surroundings. Her hand comes up to touch the bandage on her head and her brow furrows in confusion. “I remember I was going to work, but the details are kind of fuzzy...” 

Chloe’s colleague chooses that moment to enter the room followed by two nurses and within seconds it’s a flurry of activity. He steps back, watches as they fuss over Chloe, adapting the pain medication, checking her vitals. Ducks out of the room just as her colleague steps forward and starts speaking. 

In the bathroom, he takes a second to lean against the wall, eyes closed. She’s awake, he thinks. It’s all okay. She’s awake and she is talking and she will heal. She will.

But it will take time and it won’t be easy. Chloe is stubborn and independent and not used to getting help and support. He knows that by now. 

And him?

Well, he’s never been in this kind of situation before. But it’s here now and Chloe needs him.

He only hopes he won’t mess it up.

* * *

Night is falling outside when he walks back into the room, the sky a mixture of yellow and orange and red with hues of blue mixed in. 

She’s awake, her body propped up with her head angled towards the window, her hand nervously fiddling with the pulse oximeter that’s attached to her finger. 

“Hi,” he says quietly, steps closer to the bed. She turns her head slowly at the sound of his voice, lets her eyes meet his.

“Hi,” she replies softly, her gaze dropping down to her hands for an instant before she raises her head again. 

He steps closer towards the bed, comes to a halt at the foot of it, his eyes never leaving her. She looks exhausted and he can tell that she’s uncomfortable, but all of that is to be expected, of course. At least her eyes seem much more alert now than they were just a short while earlier, though they still look a bit unfocused.

“How are you?” he asks even when he knows the answer to that question, watches as she inhales carefully and exhales again on a sigh.

“I’m...okay,” she replies softly, her speech still a little slow and slurred. They both know she’s lying, of course. He can tell by the way she bites her lip every so often, the deep breaths she takes to mask her quiet winces, the way she doesn’t seem to be able to lie completely still. 

“Chloe,” he probes, but she shakes her head at him.

“Look….” she begins, trails off again. Doesn’t meet his gaze, her fingers curling around each other. She twists her hand and the pulse oximeter slides off, setting off an alarm. She doesn’t blink, too used to the irritating beeping and he steps forward, quickly silences the alarm before someone can come rushing into the room. Puts the device back in place on her finger, his hand remaining wrapped around hers afterwards. 

She lets him. 

“I know you’re in pain,” he says gently. “It’s to be expected with your injuries. It’s okay to need…”

She cuts him off before he can finish, pulls her hand from his grasp, her whole body curling into itself.

“I’m not your patient, Lucifer. You don’t need to give me this whole spiel.” 

Her voice is still a little hoarse, but it’s firm and it’s  _ her _ . Closing her eyes, she bites her lip. When she opens them again, he can see they are swimming with a thin sheen of tears.

“Do you really think I haven’t seen this before?”, her voice sounds exasperated and she shakes her head at her own rhetorical question. 

“I know exactly what happened. I know I got hit by a car. I know they had to perform a craniotomy.”

She takes a deep breath, doesn’t stop there.

“I know I broke my femur and pelvis. I know I’m supposed to getup soon but I do not know how because despite all these drugs, everything really fucking hurts. I know the pain meds make my brain fuzzy and that I don’t want them. I don’t. But you know what? I need them right now. And that sucks.”

Her eyes meet his briefly, before she closes them again.

“I know about all the possible complications. I know, Lucifer, and I wish I didn’t. I really wish I didn’t. And mostly, I wish I didn’t make Maggie show me my CT scans but I did. I saw them and they did not look fun. And I’m nauseous and I have no idea if it’s from the sedation or because something else entirely is wrong or whether it’s just because of everything.”

She is crying now, her lips pressed into a tight line in an effort to keep it together, keep it all locked in but she can’t, she’s too raw, too exhausted, too hurt. It breaks him to see her like this and he wants to reach out, wants to fold her into his arms, hold her close, feel her heartbeat against his chest, tell her everything will be okay. It will all be okay. But he doesn’t know if she’ll let him, doesn’t know if she can, so he settles for reaching out his hand, lays it down slowly on the pillow. To his relief, she takes it, clasps it tightly in her own.

“I’m scared,” she whispers, repeats it once, twice. “And I know I got lucky. I know it could have been so much worse. I’m okay. I’m hurt and my bones are broken but I don’t have any neurological deficits. I can move my arms and legs and communicate. My brain is going to be okay. And my bones will heal. They’ll take time but they’ll heal. But I’m scared. I’m scared of what lies ahead. I’m scared of all the possible complications, because I can think of so many. I worry about Trixie. And...just so many things. So many things. Everything”

He can’t stop himself them, engulfs her tightly in his arms. She doesn’t relax fully into his embrace but he can feel some of the tightness leave her body. After a moment, he pulls back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes, wants her to see the sincerity that lies in his.

“We’ll get through this,” he says. “Together.”

“Together?” her voice is softer and more insecure than he has ever heard it before. It makes him lean forward and press a whisper of a kiss to her forehead, her nose and then her lips, before he pulls back again. 

“Together,” he promises. And means it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering how Chloe can be awake and talking so soon after brain surgery, I've explained it [here](https://moonatoms.tumblr.com/post/630367263253577728/hi-i-have-a-question-about-your-doctors-au-how). I did take some liberties of course but trust me, I've seen it before. People with epidural hematoma usually recover quite well if you operate on them quickly enough. Brains are amazing, folks!  
> I would love to promise the next update will be sooner but I hate promising stuff like that. I will do my best however!

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: While I am a doctor I am in fact NOT an intensive care doctor or a cardiothoracic surgeon (yep, hard no on the surgery part). I interned in the ICU for two months at the end of medical school and have consulted both people and books for this but if you are a specialist in any of those medical fields, you might find some slight medical inaccuracies (in that case: feel free to let me know and I'll fix it). I also do not work in the US so some things might be done differently on the other side of the big pond.  
> Anyway, feel free to ask any medical questions you might have (in regards to this story!). And if you want to read ahead, you can find the entire fic [here](https://moonatoms.tumblr.com/tagged/doctors+au/).  
> Have a lovely day and stay healthy, everyone.


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